


Night Meeting

by pleasure_to_burn



Series: The Martian Chronicles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas is a ghost, M/M, Mars, Not Really Character Death, Space AU, The Martian Chronicles AU, space travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasure_to_burn/pseuds/pleasure_to_burn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two lonely figures meet during a fleeting Martian night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I've been wanting to write this story for so long, and now it finally happened. If you haven't noticed already, I have a thing for Bradbury stories and "The Night Meeting" in the Martian Chronicles is one of my absolute favorites. I hope you guys like it!

Night Meeting

 

_“The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to stream, made sand and silica into green glass, which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye, to bludgeon away all the strangeness, their mouths fringed with nails so they resembled steel-toothed carnivores, spitting them into their swift hands as they hammered up frame cottages and scuttled over roofs with shingles to blot out the eerie stars, and fit green shades to pull against the night.”_

_The Martian Chronicles, Ray Bradbury_

 

 

 

**҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉     ҉҉҉҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉**

_August 2133_

 

           He looked out over the barren stone sea that seemed to go on for miles in every direction with its vast nothingness and took a long drag of his cigarette. While the wisps of smoke curled overhead, Dean mused about the irony of his current situation. Back home on Earth, he barely ever smoked- he could probably count each time on one hand easily. Sammy always complained whenever he would come home with the acrid scent clinging to his clothes, going off about cancer rates or something like that. But now he was down to the last cigarette in the pack he had bought as a last minute thought on his last day on Earth in a moment of what could only be described as nostalgia for something he thought he’d never miss. It’s odd the things you start to miss when you are a hundred million miles away from everything you used to know. He shut down that train of thought so fast he could practically hear the walls slamming down inside his head. He didn’t want to think about his Baby that he left in storage, or the few close friends he managed to keep over the years, or Sammy. Especially not Sammy.

 

            As the pale afternoon sunlight filters through the weak Martian atmosphere, he squares his shoulders and decides it’s time to move on. He had told Ellen he would be there at the bar to work tonight and nightfall wasn’t too far away, judging by the rapidly disappearing daylight around him. After he had landed, it had taken Dean months just to get used to the pleasant quirks of living halfway across the frickin solar system, much to his annoyance. Every little detail like the dry Martian air or its perpetually hazy sky drove him crazy after he first landed; probably because it reminded him that he was trapped on this rock for the rest of his life. In the darkest corners of his mind, he secretly wished that the rocket had burned up leaving the Earth’s atmosphere and that he wouldn’t have to struggle to piece his life back together on this desolate planet.

 

           Ellen’s bar was a squat little hole in the wall located just outside the ruins of the dead Martian city that everyone was calling Jefferson City and she ran the place with an iron fist. He had met Ellen on the ship that brought them to this god-forsaken planet when she had taken it upon herself to mother-hen him through a particularly violent panic attack as they took off. Who would have thought the kid afraid of stepping foot in an airplane would freak during intergalactic travel, right? Over the next few weeks that it took them to reach their destination, they pointedly avoided talking about their past that had led them here and instead made snarky comments about their fellow passengers as there wasn’t much else to do inside a cramped spacecraft with hundreds of others looking to start fresh. All he really knew for sure about Ellen was that she used to run a bar in Nebraska and the subject of family was as much a forbidden topic for her as it was for Dean, which worked just fine for him. Mars seemed full of people just like them. Once they landed, she roped Dean and a few other lost souls into helping her build a new bar which was basically a metal shack with better insulation but they were all fiercely proud of it. Dean had made the mistake of mentioning that he worked for a while on a construction crew before he was shipped off which made him manager of the project, much to his bitter dismay. It turns out that the building project was the perfect outlet for all of the pent up frustration that lay under his skin and served as his personal form of fucked up therapy for a while. When it was finally completed, Ellen offered him a gig as a bartender and he stuck around ever since.

 

 _11 months, 23 days, and 15 minutes_ … he recited to himself as he looked down at his watch that was still set on Earth time. _11 months, 23 days, and 15 minutes that I’ve trapped on this dust ball._ Maybe it was the fact that it was nearing the 1 year mark that was making him especially morose this evening, or maybe he was simply starting to go mad. Again he secretly wished it was the latter.

 

            He glanced down at his watch one more time before lifting himself from his rocky perch overlooking the dried-up sea. If he doesn’t leave now, he will be late for his shift and Ellen will have his ass. With a sigh, he sets off into the setting sun towards the bar.

 

**҉     ҉     ҉     ҉     ҉**

 

         “See ya tomorrow Ellen!” Dean calls as he walks out the back door of the bar with his precious burger in hand.

 

         “I better not see your ugly mug in here tomorrow, take a goddamn day off once in a while,” she yells as she ducks her head out the door.

 

        “I’ll think about it,” Dean concedes. He gives a small wave and takes off into the Martian night.

    

         His walk back from the bar to his house isn’t all that far, but the quickest route between the two took him through the straight through the ruins of the ancient city. During the day, Dean had no problem exploring and weaving his way over the canals and through the street ways that once were home to this great civilization. He had spent many of his days off searching through the rubble simply looking for evidence of the people that had lived and died in this once proud city. But during the night, Dean tried to avoid the ruined city as much as possible. He always felt that he was being watched, like a thousand pairs of eyes were crawling over his skin, as he walked through the deserted town. Tonight was no exception.

 

         The moon was high overhead, illuminating the dried-up canals and casting shadows down from the once-tall buildings that lined the streets. It seemed to be unnaturally bright tonight which added to Dean’s growing sense of uneasiness. Suddenly, the winds picked up, carrying along the dust that coated the entire planet. The stinging wind caused Dean to stop for a moment to wipe the grit out of his eyes so that he could see again; yet another lovely quality of this godforsaken planet. He opened his eyes again, only to see what looked like a tall figure crossing over one of the many bridges that covered the city in the pale moonlight.

 

         “Hey! Wait up!” Dean called after the figure.

 

          It, or rather he, came to a stop on the middle of the bridge overlooking the dried-up canal. He turned to look at Dean and fixed his large lantern-like eyes on him that seemed to glow like gas lamps in the night sky. Even from a distance, Dean was entranced by the cerulean glare that was thrown in his direction. He tilted his head as if considering whether to stay put or continue on his way, but curiosity must have prevailed as he spoke something in a language Dean had never heard.

 

        “Where did you come from?” the stranger asked in a peculiar lilting language.

 

         “Sorry, buddy I didn’t catch that,” Dean replied as he reached the bridge where his mysterious stranger was still watching him, much like a tiger watches its prey.

 

          As he approaches the man, Dean suddenly realizes what he is dealing with. Its fiercely cobalt eyes pin Dean to where he stands as its seems to weighing whether he is worth its time. Now that he is face to face with the stranger, he can see that the creature’s gleaming translucent skin was not just a trick of the moonlight as its skin seems to radiate a soft white light from within which is contrasted by its windswept jet black hair. The creature, or Martian as Dean belatedly remembers the stories surrounding the long-dead race, is just slightly shorter than Dean, yet the weight of its gaze makes Dean feel like a small child.

 

            “Who are you?” Dean asks with a twinge of fear running up his spine.

 

            The Martian scowls at him. “What are you doing here?” he asks in his forgotten language.

 

            “I’m Dean Winchester.”

            “I am called Castiel.”

 

            They both reply but the meaning is lost on both of them. Their words became clearer the second time around when combined with copious amounts of hand gestures. Once clarified, there was silence for a moment as they seemed to have reached an impasse.

 

            Suddenly a ghost of smile crossed the Martian’s face. “Wait a moment,” he explained.

 

            As they stood there regarding each other, Dean felt a hand crawl its way up the back of his neck and touch the top of his head. He turned around rapidly, but found nothing. As he twisted to face the Martian again, he saw a smirk spread across his companion’s face.

 

           “Hello Dean,” the Martian spoke gravely in English.

 

           “What the hell?” Dean cries out roughly. “You can speak English now?”

 

            “Yes, I looked inside your mind and found the basics,” Castiel calmly informs him. “It was quite easy actually.”

 

            “That’s really creepy dude, don’t ever do that again,” Dean threatens.

 

             “My apologies, it was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I was only making it easier to communicate. The hand gestures were becoming grating.”

 

             “Okay, well next time stay out of my head.” Dean gripes back.

 

             They end up in some bizarre staring contest where Dean is too distracted by the stupidly blue eyes in front of him and Castiel can’t look away from the striking man that is unlike anything he has seen before. The Martian is beautiful in the way that summer storms are beautiful, with danger lurking just below the surface and power seemingly bursting at the seams. Dean manages to tear his eyes away for a second and catches the Martian looking intently down at the to-go container Ellen had packed for him after his shift.

 

              “Are you just going to stare at it or are you going to ask what’s inside like a regular person?”

 

               Dean’s comment catches the Martian off-guard and he looks away with guilty expression that would give a kicked puppy a run for their money.

 

               “I’m sorry; my curiosity got the best of me. I was simply wondering what was in that box you are holding. It smells delicious,” Castiel offers as an apology.

 

               “You are damn right it’s delicious,” Dean smirks as he takes the hand-crafted cheeseburger out of the container and hands half of it to Cas. _Wait…when did the potentially dangerous member of an extinct race become “Cas”_?

 

               Castiel accepts the burger warily. Before he decides to take a bite, he stares at the half sandwich with such intensity that Dean begins to wonder if he should add x-ray vision to the list of Martian attributes. Apparently Ellen’s burgers are as irresistible to Martians as they are to humans since Castiel finally took a bite. He watched as Cas’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he bit into the melted cheese and beef, and let loose a groan that was worthy of the raunchiest of porn stars. Dean had to stifle a cough in order to interrupt the Martian’s triple-x performance, mostly because his lower half had taken quite an interest in Castiel’s one man show.

 

              “These make me very happy,” Castiel mumbled through a mouth full of food. “What do you call this delightful meal?”

 

              “That artery clogging masterpiece would be known as a deluxe cheeseburger,” Dean replied with a smug smile on his face. The other could only groan in appreciation as he continued to stuff his face, even licking his fingers when he finished his half. He looked up eagerly at Dean, who still held the majority of his half of the hamburger still in his hand. Dean watched as the Martian’s large eyes flicked back and forth from Dean’s face to the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, as if he was too ashamed to ask for it.

 

               “Here buddy, you can have the rest,” Dean finally said. The Martian’s pitiful look was almost as bad as Sammy’s puppy dog eyes, which he did not have time to deal with tonight. Another ghost of a smile crossed Castiel’s face as Dean handed over the burger.

 

              “Thank you, Dean for sharing this delicious meal with me. My friends will be fascinated when I tell them about this later” Castiel informs him with a gummy smile that starts to spread across his face. _It’s kinda cute in a slightly awkward way…wait, what did he say about friends?_ A chill ran down the back of Dean's spine as he watched the Martian happily munching away on his burger, his own appetite suddenly gone. _  
_

              “Cas, what friends are you talking about?” Dean asks carefully.

 

              “Well Gabriel and Balthazar would certainly love this ‘cheeseburger’ so I would mention to them first, but my whole garrison would want to know too. I was on my way to meet them before I encountered you,” Castiel replies nonchalantly.

 

              “Wait, you were going to meet with a bunch of Martians tonight? Aren’t they all dead?” Dean blurts out.

 

               He remembers the stories being whispered among the other passengers on their interstellar trek. Most of the talk had been a mix of rumors and actual facts about what to expect once they reached their destination, but only a few had discussed the fate of the Martians that had once inhabited the planet. Not much was known about the species; only that sometime between the Third and Fourth Expeditions, the majority of the population had been wiped out by what appeared to be a strain of chicken pox. After the success of the Fourth Expedition almost 50 years ago and the steady stream of eager settlers that followed, there had not been a single confirmed sighting of a Martian. All that was known about them was gathered from the weathered ruins of their once-great cities that continued to stand tall against the ever-present pull of gravity.

 

                Castiel tilted his head in response to Dean’s exclamation, and looked as though he was deciding whether Dean was just messing with him or if he was actually deranged.

 

                “I’m sure you must be mistaken, or that is some attempt at humor,” he stated flatly. “I assure you that my race is still very much alive given that I met with my friends yesterday and we have plans tonight.”

 

                Now it was Dean’s turn to question whether the creature in front of him honestly thought that his people were still alive or if this was some sort of horrible joke set up by one of his idiot co-workers from the bar. Or maybe this is just some dream and he is passed out along the canal on his way home from work…

 

               “Buddy, I don’t know how to break this to you but from what I know, the Martians are long gone. Some disease took them out at least a century ago,” Dean carefully states.

 

                 He watches a flicker of sadness cross the young Martian’s face, but it’s quickly replaced with look of determination and slight annoyance. _Honestly it’s kinda hot…wait a minute, where did that come from?_

               “Your humor is not any better the second time around, and now I am late for my meeting. Farewell.”

 

               With a huff, he turns to continue on his way without a second thought.

             

               "Cas, wait!"

               Without thinking, Dean lunges forward to stop the Martian from leaving. He reaches to grab Castiel’s wrist before he can get too far away, but to his amazement, he watches his hand pass straight through Castiel’s arm like he was only a shadow. Castiel stops suddenly and turns to face Dean.

 

               “What did you just do?” he demands.

 

               “I didn’t do anything; all I did was try to touch you. Here watch!”

 

               Dean tries to touch the Martian’s hand, but again his hand passes straight through Castiel’s skin as if he wasn’t truly there. He watches as Castiel’s eyes grow wide in disbelief at this impossibility.

 

               “This can’t be possible,” the Martian muttered under his breath. He examined his own hand briefly, like he could discern what was causing this from the molecules in his hand. Without warning, his hand shot out to grab Dean’s hand and passed straight through Dean’s body with no interference. They both let out a startled cry.

 

               “What the hell, man!” Dean yelled out.

               “Dear gods!” Castiel cried out in his own language.

 

               “I don’t understand what is going on,” Castiel mutters in his confusion.

 

                “I haven’t the slightest. All I know is that I was walking home from Ellen’s bar on the other side of the ruins and the next thing I know I was chatting with a member of a dead species.”

 

               “What ruins to you speak of? I’m not aware of any ruins in this area.”

 

            “Are you serious? We are standing right in the middle of them, look around Cas,” Dean said as he gestured to the slowly collapsing buildings that surrounded them.

 

             “I am looking, but all I see is the city. I see the tavern on the corner, the apothecary right next door, and I hear the river running under our feet as we stand here on the bridge,” Castiel replies testily.

 

              “Cas, none of that is there. Those shops are long gone, and the canal looks like it hasn’t had water in centuries,” Dean states as gently as possible. “I’m sorry.”

 

             “That can’t be possible,” Castiel mutters to himself. “It can’t be true…”

 

            The Martian suddenly looks up and fixes his eyes on Dean with a look that he swears goes straight through his soul. He takes a step forward into Dean’s personal space. His eyes seem to blaze like the white-hot intensity of distant stars which pierce through the inky black night sky. Pinned under the weight of his gaze, Dean finds himself unable to look away or even move a muscle to maintain any semblance of personal space.

 

            “Dean, how do we know that it is not your world that is out of place?” Castiel asks suddenly.

 

            “Cas, that’s just stupid,” Dean sputters. “Of course mine is real, I think I would know if it wasn’t.”

 

            “But there is no way to know for sure. Tell me Dean, where did you come from and how did you reach this planet?”

 

            “Okay I’ll play along. I’m from Kansas, on Earth and I came here with about a hundred other people in a great big rocket almost a year ago.”

 

            “Earth? I’ve never heard of such a place. And I see no rocket that you claimed to have traveled here in.”

 

            “Jesus, Cas just because you don’t know where Earth is doesn’t make it any less real,” Dean exclaimed in a huff. A wounded look crosses the Martian’s face and all the frustration that he felt fades away.

 

            “Look, I was just trying to help. I thought if you knew, then it wouldn’t come as such a shock when it happens,” Dean admits.

 

            A heavy silence falls over the two. Dean can see the Martian mulling over what he had said inside his head. Finally Castiel reached his decision.

 

            “It is inconsequential to me. If you are correct about my future, then I do not care to know about how our civilization has fallen into shambles. Worrying about what is to come will not change the outcome or make what you say anymore truthful. You say that we are surrounded by crumbling buildings and dry riverbeds, when I can see the lights flickering off the water just below your feet. I would rather that be my reality.”

 

            “You might have a point there, Cas.”

 

            “Indeed, I would rather focus on the way the moonlight reflects off your skin or the way your eyes turn the most vibrant shade of green when the light catches them than consider the eventualities of fate," he breathes out hurriedly as if he was afraid the words would desert him.

 

           For a moment the words seem to hang in the thick Martian air between them.

 

           After what seems like an eternity, Dean lets out a soft laugh.

 

           "Cas, don't ever change."

 

            A wide smile breaks across the Martians face as Dean beckons him to join him on the low railing of the bridge. They sat on the bridge talking under the moonlight for what seemed like hours. Castiel related to Dean about what life was like as a Martian while Dean told Cas about his former life back on Earth. The topics ranged from their families to food to different types of animals that inhabited each of the planets. Castiel seemed fascinated by the concept of bees which amused Dean to no end. Dean laughed at the tales Castiel told of his garrison and the trouble that they would find themselves in due to certain members. Eventually the conversation slowed, and Dean glanced up at his companion.

 

            He belatedly noticed the Martian leaning dangerously into his space. Castiel seemed to sway closer with every hot burst of wind that swept past the curious pair, not caring at all about the strangeness of their situation. As Cas leans within an inch of Dean’s face, his eyes track down over the Martian’s plump lips and he can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss them until he has to come up for breath. Dean tilts forward, his lips nearly touching Castiel’s in the soft moonlight. He could feel the Martian’s breath on his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Without thinking, he reaches forward to grab the Martian’s waist and bring this slow torture to an end, but his hand meets no resistance.

 

           Realizing his mistake, Dean opens his eyes only to see tears beginning to form in those storm cloud blue eyes. Castiel takes a step back as the tears threaten to overflow.

 

           “Cas, I’m sor---“

 

           “Good bye Dean,” Castiel whispered as he slips away from their almost embrace.

 

           Dean could only watch as the Martian disappeared into the mist that slowly crept towards their bridge. It was like his vocal chords had frozen solid and his tongue turned to stone as speech seemed to escape him.

 

           “Cas, wait! Come back!” he called out finally.

 

           No voice answers his plea.

 

           Unknown to him, it was already too late. They were two fragments of time that never should have touched, and yet they collided for one chance encounter. They would forever be tormented by what might have been. But neither would ever forget that night meeting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, you guys are awesome!


End file.
